Long Story; Short Pier.

God, hes left as on aur oun.

What I invariably find myself snapping at the emotionally reticent, self-effacingly chivalric protagonists of the best SF novels of the year, on or about page 101:

Christ, do you all hang out with prostitutes?

  1. Patrick Nielsen Hayden    Feb 27, 07:57 am    #

    You appear to have accidentally hit “post” before writing the paragraph that tells us what you mean.


  2. Kip    Feb 27, 09:41 am    #

    No, pretty much everything I meant to say at the moment is in there, somewhere. —I might add more, later, when I’ve maybe finished the book in question. Makes it all dreadfully unfair in the particular, I know, but he has a friend in the demimonde is a distressingly common move whose motives rarely have anything to do with exploring friendship or the demimonde. Which is true of far more than SF, yes, and that, I suppose, makes it unfair in the general, too. Hmm.


  3. Kevin Moore    Feb 27, 09:51 pm    #

    I don’t know what angle the virgins are playing at, but the hos gotta make a living.


  Textile help

I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing.

Harkonnen armor.

Sweary.

Fridays.

Email | Bluesky | Mastodon | RSS

Chapter Twenty-Nine: “Mass”

City of Roses

the Tomorrow File

Archive | Comradery | Patreon

  • I bet you wish you had
  • Lacuna
textpattern